The Tourist
by sortakindamaybeperhaps
Summary: A bachelor goes on a trip to Italy to mend a broken heart, unfortunately his plans for the week went straight to hell when the she devil chose him as the target. Strange things happen but more importantly, who is this Niklaus Mikaelson? Follow through the many sides in this story in tracking down the infamous Mikaelson. [full-scale hiatus]
1. Prologue

**_PROLOGUE_**

_Caroline, I know you have no reason to trust me anymore, but the least I could do is explain myself to you. I know the police has been watching your every move. You are their only lead to me. __There is a chance for you to get away, to throw them off the trail. Board the eight-twenty-two, the Gare De Lyon. __Once you're on board, pick someone with my height and build and make them believe it is me. It is important that you follow my instructions precisely, sweetheart. Have faith, Caroline, for I'll be with you soon. Know that my absence these past two years, it was for your own good too._

_Fondly,_

_Klaus._

_P.S. I've always wanted to show you Venice, love._

* * *

_**JUNE 9, AFTERNOON**_

_**PARIS - VENICE**_

A YOUNG MAN THAT IS probably in his mid-thirties sits alone in the window seat with his nose pointedly stuck in a book. Dark brown messy hair sticks up on the side of his head, his straight eyebrows are drawn together that a crease appears between them, and he's holding the corner of his lower lip in between his teeth. He's so engrossed with the book he's reading that he's seemingly indifferent to all the fuss transpiring around him. His eyes keep flicking through the pages, taking in as many words as he could, as if he were to stop now he would miss something brilliant that will happen in the story. His wild pupil scans the page from left to right and back, from a word to a word, eagerly absorbing it all in.

While at the same time, a petite blonde lady stepped through the sliding metal doors. Her eyes immediately starts assessing the passengers boarding the train. Dark shades perched on her button nose, blocking people from staring into her deep azure eyes. Her gaze rested on a well-dressed french-man. Medium height, medium build. Standing all alone in the aisle, examining his ticket. He's pretty easy on the eyes with his masculine features, sharp jaws that commands attention, long golden hair swept back in polished fashion, concentrated pair of dark forest green eyes, but with a grim set to his mouth. She glance at her reflection critically, in the gleaming glass window of the train. Adjusting her hair and dress. She has a long bright silky hair, it flows down her back perfectly, near her waist. She wears a light cream coloured cropped cape coat over an off-the shoulder white dress, with same ivory colour of long gloves, and a piece of bright-coloured garment wrapped loosely around her tiny waist as a sash. The look was completed with a set of her pointed-toe silver bronze heels, and a pair of wide gold hoops earrings.

Satisfied with what she sees, she turns and starts to approach the man, like a cat stalking it's prey. Numerous pairs of eyes were immediately glued to her the moment she took a step down the aisle, like a pageant queen she is. Makes no mistake, the lady knows that she is exquisite. The gentleman heard the clicks of her heels and look up. The sight that greets him made his hard-lined mouth falls open and his eyes widen with a slight astonishment. She smiles coyly at him, basking in the attention she's receiving. What can she say, she loves the attention. The man was about to say something when a woman suddenly arrives and slings an arm around him. The newcomer is very much beautiful, if not absolutely beautiful. Long curly brown hair, her height looks about 5 ft 6 tall. Her long round nose is turned up slightly and she was blessed with high cheekbones, giving her face a sharp look. This was softened however, by her large compelling brown doe-eyes. His lady, she assumed. The dark-haired lady continuously glares at the other woman who approaches her man.

"What are you doing, Vincent? Our seat is over there," She chastised softly, and with an almost disappointed backward glance, he allows himself to be dragged away.

Annoyed and frustrated, the fair-haired lady turns and search around for another possibility. And her eyes fell on a tousled haired man, sitting alone by the window. He's so wrapped up in his own world-in his book-that he didn't even spare a glance when someone nearly tumble down on the walkway right next to him. Feeling like taking a challenge, she starts advancing casually towards him. A few men in the passenger car's eyes are still locked on her, hoping for her to turn around and return the gesture with the same intensity, yet this one man ignores her presence. She eye him with thinly veiled contempt as she makes her way to him, then her expression slowly changes.

The horn blares. Once. Twice. The earsplitting sound resonating in her ears, and the train starts to pick up speed.

**_"..pick someone with my height and build.."_**

* * *

The train hurtles past the scenery, heavy squealing on iron rails. The landscape shifts from rows of tall buildings in the city to a string of thick verdant trees. Thick carpet, mellow wood of the inlaid panels, the subtlety of the Lalique mirrors and the softly lit lamps all inspire a feeling of great luxury. But _he_ looks vaguely out of place. Sitting by the window in his casual jeans and pullover sweater. He's wrapped up in a dog-eared paperback spy novel, so wrapped up that he barely notices someone is sitting down in the seat opposite him. Feeling kind of overlook, she make quite a show of crossing her legs and clears her throat once. Still he ignores. She clears her throat once again, louder this time.

He glances up. _Finally._

Acting nonchalant, she slowly and sensually takes her coat off. Popping buttons one-by-one respectively, as if she's performing a tantalizing strip tease. Boy, does that got his attention now. He's so captivated by her actions to the point of being unsettled. Torn between wanting to get back to his reading and watching _her_. She takes off her sunglasses, revealing two stunning orbs. She goes to remove her coat, but the zipper seems to give her trouble. Not even bothering in being subtle, she sits up in her seat and leans into the man.

"My zipper- ah! It's stuck. Lend me a hand, maybe," She said when he did nothing and stupidly stared at her, like a fish out of the tank, and good heavens! Even her voice sounded sensual. 'Bloody hell,' thought the dark-haired man. He sets his book down on the table stand between them, slides it aside until the hard covers of the book touches the train's wall, and carefully leans closer. Very stiffly, he reaches his hands towards the side of the woman's lovely neck, and he can't help but to stare at her smooth, porcelain skin, a little too long for it to be considered appropriate. Can't really blame him, he is a neck person.

"Well?" He was immediately jerked out of his reverie when he hears her sweet voice. He adjusts himself in his seat and attempts to unwind the trapped thread of fabric, but the zipper continues to resist.

"Afraid this might hurt, darling," he breathed. She slides forward in her seat to get even closer. She cursed lightly inside her head at the table between them, successfully blocking her advancement to lean as close as possible into him. They are sitting so close with each other right now that she can feel his breath on the side of her ear.

"No. Don't be afraid," she sighs, and he was about to retort something back at her-something like 'Oh, it's not me that should be afraid-' but at that moment the train sways slightly, throwing him off balance, and thus resulting in him tugging the zipper sharply with his hand. His words died right on the edge of his tongue. The zipper gives with a tearing sound. He freezes. She looks down to the zipper in his hands, torn zipper in his hands.

"Sorry.. I tried though," her eyes flashed with fury for a brief moment. Taking a deep breath, she raises her gaze higher to level his.

"It doesn't matter anymore." sensed that she might've said that a bit too coldly, she feels bad for blaming him while it was her idea asking for his help, so she gave him a small smile. "Don't give up so easily," she added. Reluctantly, he continues with the zipper. The tearing sound continues as he lowers the zipper with a bated breath, inch by inch. First her neck, then down her throat, then going lower to her cleavage, her skin are gradually uncovered. The zipper keeps going downward. And there's no sign of anything underneath. The man is practically sweating by now. Finally he uncovers the fabric. _Finally._

Unconsciously, he releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He finishes unzipping the sweater and falls back into his seat. The flaxen haired lady slides it off her shoulders, still sensuous as ever.

"Thanks," she flirted as she winked. She settles back into her seat, almost cat-like and watches him. He stares at her for a several moment, at loss for words.

"Caroline," she voiced. That seem to make him come out of it. He blinks twice, before he test those three syllables in his mouth. Her name rolls off his tongue like a chant the first time, and with a rare familiarity the second, like he already knew a _Caroline_ in his life.

"Kol. Short from Nicholas, but just call me Kol. What parents would ever name their son Nicholas nowadays, I swear," he runs his hand through his hair while he shakes his head lightly.

"That's a nice name," she disagreed, with a note of interest sparks in her eyes at hearing his full name. He made a face but said nothing.

"Well that makes it easier, you won't mind using a different name then, right." That doesn't sound like a question to him.

**_"..and make them believe it is me."_**

* * *

**I swear- I promise you this story will be 100% about Klaroline. I know some of you might get confused and worried about Kol. Don't be, he ain't got nothing on our ship. If you want to understand the story better, you can go ahead and watch the movie. ****It's called The Tourist, starred by A****ngelina Jolie and Johnny Depp. The story has a really nice pace and a pretty mind blowing ending ;) x**


	2. Chapter 1

_**CHAPTER ONE**_

_"I'll come back, and I'll look for you." he didn't even wait for an answer before he places featherlike kisses all over her face. One on her temple. She closed her eyes. Another on both her closed eyelids, another right on top of her left cheek, followed by a soft graze on her lips, so light she thought she was making it all up it inside her mind, if it weren't for his hot breath warming up her face - letting her know that it's real - before his lips reaches it's final destination, on the crown of her head. She let his lips hover over her a moment longer than she should. Then the air around her suddenly becomes lighter, emptier.. The absence of his body warmth and the realization of her current predicament almost makes her collapse on his desk._

_He's gone._

* * *

_**A FEW HOURS EARLIER**_

_**JUNE 9, EARLY MORNING**_

_**PARIS**_

TWO SOLID POUNDING OF FIST against the metal door before it swiftly slides open, revealing a rather well-built man waiting outside. His sharp, and usually focused eyes sparkles with mischief and the corner of his mouth tugs slightly upward, displaying his well-known half smirk on his clean shaven face when he was met with a groan and a low grumble from the sole occupant inside the van. His thick - as ever - dark hair sticks up at his crown. Leaning his body sideways against the sliding door of the vehicle, like it was the most casual thing in the world and they're totally not on a stakeout at the moment.

"S_e il tu plaît, pas trop fort(Please, not to loud)._ God," he silently holds up a cup of coffee as a reply for the wasted french-man in front of him.

"Any progress with Goldilocks?" His gruff voice flows through the cold and crisp morning air. His speech has a slight lilt at the end, the words rolls smoothly off his undulating tongue. His English accent are always melodic and pleasant on the ears, girls frequently seem to drool at the sound of it. However, despite his casual tone he's using this time, his subordinate can sense the heaviness in his question. Almost immediately as the question falls out of his mouth, his eyebrows are tugged together and his upper lip curls as if he just tasted something sour.

"_Non(Nope)._ She's still in her apartment, sir." The french-man takes off his earpiece and rubs his hand across his face while yawning. The fellow male looks a few years younger than the Brit. His eyes are teary and heavy-lidded, like he hadn't slept in a hundred years or so. Enzo could say he looks positively like shit. There are two very obvious dark circles around his eyes, and heavy packs of eyebags under his usually brilliant blue eyes. His short sand-coloured hair is combed neatly to the side. The blonde was recruited only recently, two months ago to be more exact, for this operation. Enzo seemed to have taken quite a liking to him- no scratch that, Enzo seemed to have seen an easy chap for him to order around and be at his beck and call.

"_Merci(Thanks),_" he mumbles to his superior when Enzo handed the drink over to him.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were pushing yourself too hard." He smirk as he steps onto the vehicle.

"I knew it was a bad idea, an incredibly stupid idea going out for a drink with you on weekdays." The blonde man responded, his english thick with french accent. "C_omment êtes-vous toujours sur vos pieds(How are you still on your feet)?_ Seriously," All he got as a reply from his senior was a slight shrug of his shoulder and a wide grin-showing his perfectly lined teeth, so white that it almost blinds the blonde.

"My mate's being a good boy these days. Which means, I'm in need of a new drinking buddy." Shutting off the open doors, he goes to his seat to continue surveilling the surrounding area through his screen, keeping an eye out for any signs or anything suspicious.

"Speaking of him, his brother; Inspector Salvatore. You guys have been chasing this.. _Mikaelson_ for over a year now, right?" At first it seemed like his superior wasn't going to give him an actual answer, he thought maybe Enzo wasn't even listening to what he was saying. His dark eyes are stuck to the screen in front of him, his hands are moving smoothly over the rows of keys under his calloused fingers but then he turns his head facing his still-inexperienced-subordinate, and with a steady voice he says, "A _year _is nothing, that bloke's been moping and brooding about boring Elena for two whole year and a half. He'll manage,"

Matthew, the boy, burst out a laugh at that. They both turn back to scrutinizing their screens and pours their full attention into it. The younger male still snickering slightly while putting his earpiece back on place.

* * *

"She's coming out of her apartment._..s_he's early today," Enzo almost jumps out of his seat at hearing his first statement. He immediately move closer to Matt, "She heading to her usual cafe," Unabatedly he let out a frustrated breath. It's been the same boring routine the whole week, since she got _released_ from continous interrogation a few months ago. Each morning she would leave her apartment and walk across the street to her favorite coffee shop. She would order her usual milk tea, a buttered-croissant, and a glass of orange juice. She would then sit there for hours for no apparent reason, even after she finishes her meal.

Their deliberated target is not stupid, Enzo knows that. She know that people have been watching her, and she's probably doing all of this useless routine on purpose. You see, Caroline really enjoy playing these games, aimlessly leading them around just to see if they'll be hot on her trail at every corner she turns. Counting the seconds before they finally snaps and when they do, she will just wind her away cleverly and slip through their fingers _again_. For further precautions, his partner has put up a few deputies to stick around her - dressed like normal civilians - to keep an eye on her at all time.

_Oh_ but Enzo knows how her games work already. Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice, shame on him.

Caroline Evelyn Forbes. Enzo used to know Caroline really well. All about her life for the past five years, her goddamn last pet's name, even her most favoured colour- which is a trick question, because Caroline has no favourite colour, just preferable than others. However, knowing all that doesn't really help with anything, because k_eyword; past tense._

* * *

_Fogs covering the skyline, exposing only the slate rooftops of buildings. You can hear the sound of soft wave of the sea gently lapping at the shore. From out the mist emerges a patrol boat, it's lights are dimmed so not give away the element of surprise. It gently touches the beach with a smooth landing. A few officers lower down a ramp and then a scout of INTERPOL TACTICAL TEAM - perfect in their Kevlar uniform with headgear - pours out of the patrol boat. A moment after a man steps off the boat, pulling on the same Kevlar vest. He chance a modest glance towards the sky to see there isn't a single star that is visible in sight. The night shore would've been clouded in complete blackness if it weren't for the moon's radiant light flooding the sky. He nods toward the tactical team and walks ahead, in the lead of the group, his partner by his side._

_"Finally. Let's go."_

_They arrived at the main gate of a villa a moment later. A specialist is kneeling on the ground to open an electric panel. He quickly sets up the equipment, his hands moving swiftly and professionally like he's done it a thousand times before. It reveals a glass plate with a fingertip shape in the center on top of a machinery gadgets. The specialist places his hand against the glass and a red light beeps on. 'It's a biometric lock,' noted the man. The specialist turns to him._

_"This is gonna take a few minutes." He pursed his lips and doesn't turn away, but his stance betrays no impatience. He knows better than to rush the professionals. He simply nods and keep on watching the specialist do his job. The Specialist opens a tool box filled with sophisticated gear and gets to work..._

_ xx_

_He stares at the empty, slowly revolving chair. If only a stare could set things on fire, that seat would've been burnt to ashes by now. His jaws clenched and slowly unclenched, feeling like the vacant chair is mocking him for his loss. He spun around and stalks menacingly toward the lady now in his custody, the woman he thought he knew so well. The person he used to receive phone calls from at the most randomest time just to demand him the randomest of things, the person who used to always drags him along to go eat breakfast with her, the person who is always loyal and dedicated to her job and friends. His close friend, Caroline Forbes._

_His threatening figure looming over her dainty frame as he glares fiercely at her with his flat, black jet eyes. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his partner and her best friend stepping forward in a protective manner. If things were to go from bad to worst he'd be at ready to intervene, but Stefan know they need to do their job. Torn between two; obligation and bond, he stood there feeling consumed with grief. Stefan refuses to meet her eye, keeping his own on the back of Enzo's head, the room's floor, the peeled rear of the elegant wallpapers, everywhere and anywhere except her. He knew that if he were to stare into those deep swamps of emotions, his guilt would be eating at his heart - if it weren't already - and he'd never recover from it. Not without Caroline by his side, to keep him in control with his own demons._

_"You have nothing to say?" Enzo hissed through his gritted teeth. She bravely holds his stare for a while as to show her defiance, but then slowly she lowers her eyes. She couldn't look at him, not when he's staring at her like that. A fuming-and-spluttering-profanities-Enzo she could fight with, but not this side of Enzo. __His gaze seemingly soften as he stares at her with those pair of familiar eyes despite the harsh tone, as if he was pleading with her to deny him of all his accusations, to tell him that it wasn't true, to prove to him where her loyalty lies. He stares at her such sad and feeling eyes, and she dejectedly lowers her head. _

_She could feel her emotions were churning inside her and it is taking every bit of her self-control to not to breakdown in front of them. So she broke the eye-contact and stares at the ground instead, she takes her lower lip in between her teeth and bites it, hard enough to make it bleed, to keep herself from saying things she might regret later on. She knows what she did was wrong but she caouldn't help it, she feels terrible for betraying her friends' trust for the second time, without a second thought like that._

_Seeing that she wasn't going to defend herself against his statement, he nods his head slowly before he turn away. "Get her out of my sight," Enzo seethed to no one in particular inside the room. At that moment, his eyes caught on something gleaming on her wrists. She's wearing a wrist watch, an expensive looking silver wrist watch, and Caroline.. Caroline never wears a wrist watch. Something seemed to click inside his head, making him let out a low growl from deep within his throat. 'It's his,' his hand almost shot out to snatch the offensive shiny metal clutched at her wrist away, but forcibly he held himself back, and decided to glare at her instead._

_"I love him," she breathed, oh so quietly and he wouldn't have heard her it weren't for their extremely close proximity, both accessing each other's personal space, but Stefan heard her- more like he knew what she was about to say before the word even came out her mouth. He knew the words before she even said it. Beyond any other human capabilities, Stefan understood Caroline better than anyone else, and judging from the way Enzo's shoulders tense up right after, Stefan had easily figured it out. She peers up at him from under her lashes, her glistened eyes shined with such raw emotions. If only Enzo hadn't always been so fond of her, if only Stefan could just accept the fact that she, twice already went behind their backs, and she would do it again and again a thousand times, if it was for that man. All of this turn-in would be so easy._

_Enzo didn't react immediately and she thought he might have not heard her but a second later he spun on his heels and walks away, leaving the room with Stefan right behind him on tow. A tall commander shepherds came forward to handcuff her down and pulls her away. But against Stefan's better judgement, he stops himself right over the threshold to look over his shoulder. She has been watching their backs the whole time, the sight of her most trusted people walking away from her, leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. But could she really blame them? She's the one who brought this upon herself. _

_His pair of rich green found her lovely blues and they share a moment. She tries to convey her guilt and sorrow through her eyes, and a sad look flash across his face. He didn't give her his usual __reassuring smile that calms her nerves down or the look of fondness he gave her everytime she managed to make him laugh, or the teasing grin whenever he succesfully made her blush. Disappointment. He turned around and follow his partner to outside._

_Enzo left that night without looking back, and god believe him, it was hard for him to not to._

* * *

It was a beautiful day in Paris. The rays of morning sun glinted off the windows of the elegant building, the street is slightly dampened by the mist drifting across the ground. A taxi stops by the curb of a wide, cobbled street. All around there is bustle and activity, with cars and people hurrying about their business. The door swings open and a pair of exquisitely shaped female legs in Christian Louboutin high heels swing out.

Caroline Forbes, 28, shows no sign of noticing the familiar dark van waiting for her from across the street. She wears dark glasses and carries a traveling bag in one hand, with a copy of the International Herald Tribune in the other. She take a seat at the cafe's patio and wait for a waiter to take her orders, like usual. A sophisticated looking gentleman approaches her and places a fancy menu on her table.

"Hello Logan," she greets briefly after eyeing the waiter's nametag. She remembers the man, it has only been a month since he started working here. She recall all the times he would always sneak a look at her while he was wiping down a table, how he would always walk past her every so often whenever she was here, how his hands would sometime sensitively brushes her shoulders. But he never gathered enough courage to actually walk up to her table directly, so something must've changed this morning. The waiter bows his head slightly and stares at her with such an adoring gaze. He couldn't seem to hide his content smile just from hearing her saying his name.

"I'll have the usual. Gerard knows that," not even glancing at the elegant carde in front of her. The man looked sheepish for a moment, then he picks up the menu and walks away. Gerard is the head waiter of the bistro, he's still very good looking for a man his age. He has a raven black hair with a thin line of gray above both his ears. His pale, blue-gray eyes sat below thick eyebrows and above a crooked nose. He was clean shaven, and there's always faint lines of small wrinkles showing beside his eyes.

A bicycle messenger clad in black leather and wears a black motorcycle helmet walks into the cafe. His eyes flicker about the elegant coffee house before it rested at a picture he's holding. He scrunches his eyebrows together and walks over to the counter receptionist, showing him the picture before his eyes landed on the back of a blonde lady. His presumptions was confimed when the receptionist pointed his thumb at the lady's table. Feeling pleased with himself thinking he's about to get his job done for the day without much complication. He can already feel that today might be a good day for him after all. How truly dead wrong he is.

_xx_

"What?" The Salvatore's voice came through. "You think there's anything I want to hear from you right now?" Stefan's unwelcoming voice flowed through.

"She's at the usual cafe," Enzo replies offhandedly, "She's speaking with a man. He looks like a messenger, but you said to call you if anything changed in her routine." The surveillance camera outside the van flickers capturing the image of Caroline sitting at her table talking with a man.

"Connect the camera to me now," Stefan rushes out of his office to go to the control and surveillance room, "Stay on his face. His face. I want to see his face," He says as he sat himself down on one of the swivel chairs in the room. This is his job, whenever Enzo's out on a stakeout, he would do the paperworks in the office, find leads and follow any trail to track down _Klaus Mikaelson_. Compared to Enzo, the Brit really had it easy.

"Do you think he's _Niklaus Mikaelson_?" Stefan asked his partner, and it was silent for a moment. He would've thought the line was cut offed if it weren't for the steady heaving of breath from the other side.

"I think everybody's _Mikaelson_," Enzo answered, smiling wickedly while he said so.

They watched the interaction for a few minutes. The messenger tries to flirt with her while she's simply indulged in the attention. As the messenger walks away, she flips the envelope to find if there's any indication that the letter is really from that one person she thinks it's from. Surely enough she was right, for at the top of the sealer's flap, there scrawled neatly, are two very familiar initial characters. _NM._

She tore open the envelope and shakes out the contents. There is a ticket for the Orient Express and a handwritten letter. She spreads it out on the table like a precious treasure map. Her beautiful forehead creases with concentration as she reads it.

The messenger walks away a little too giddyly, Enzo's eyes were still folllowing him, like the predator he is; before he barks order to his men into the amplifying device, "Alright, get him," Two deputy from their stakeout team jumps out from their seat at the table in the bistro's patio and rushes towards the cafe's doors to give chase to the man. Caroline seemed to noticed this and eyed the back of fading figures of the two man who just ran after the poor man.

'Well, well, they already have people around to grab me if anything goes astray.' She scans the content of the letter one last time and swallows down the sorrow and melancholy in her chest, before she feels a surge of irritation starts bubbling up inside of her. She huffs loudly while putting down the sheet of paper. Seeing her reaction on the screen from the surveillance camera, Enzo grins devilishly, he might just found the biggest lead to _Niklaus Mikaelson_ in his whole year of handling this case. "It's from him." Stefan stated and Enzo suspicions were proven correct.

Caroline placed a decorative candle light that was placed on each table in the bistro to create a much more dreamy atmosphere, on a saucer and sets fire to the letter. Her actions seemed to trigger something inside him, and Stefan give orders to their subordinates - connected through the phonecall - while Caroline is already gathering her things and walks away nonchalantly.

"Stop her! No- save that letter. Go in now, save that letter!" The young waiter, Logan, hurries over to the table when he saw the flicker of fire and smelt the burnt paper. Alarmed, he throws a glass of water on the piece of parchment. By the time he looks around, Caroline is already gone and there is no longer a trace of her. Matthew flung the doors open and ran outside. Their prime objective now is _Niklaus Mikaelson_. He burst into the bistro and rushes over to the patio. Arriving at the table, he nudged the waiter aside, easily showing him his badge before shooing the young man away.

Seeing what's left of the burnt and flooded letter, he grunts into his earpiece. "The letter is burnt to shit." Stefan let out a frustrated sigh while Enzo arguably let out a slight curse. Stefan propped his elbows on the table and lean forward while rubbing his temples with the heel of his palms.

"Alright, don't touch it. Get the ashes, take them to the van. I'll send you someone." and the call ended.

Little did they know, if they were to pay more attention to their surroundings at that moment, they would have noticed a lone figure who sat by a fountain bench in front of the building the bistro is at, he was peacefully reading a newspaper but occasionally would throw watchful glances at Caroline's way. He stood up almost at the same time Caroline did and eyed her the whole time she walks away with a smirk marking his handsome face.

_xx_

"So, _Niklaus Mikaelson_ has a new face, just as you suspected." the Chief Inspector, Alaric Saltzman says associate disinterestedly. "I'd have thought it must have taken quite a lot of the money he stole from Silas to finance this transformation." he added to his statement. Alaric began to scrutinize a picture of the courier that had given the letter to Caroline at the cafe earlier, frowning. He raises his gaze to meet the younger Salvatore's eyes before he goes back to inspect the file in his hands.

"Achmed Tchebali, bicycle courier of Algerian decent. Not only has this so called _Mikaelson_ acquired a wife and a child, he's also four inches shorter than he used to be. That must have been a big item of expenditure." he looks at the brooding Inspector with raised eyebrows, as if expecting an explanation for this unprofessionalism. Stefan scowls threateningly at the empty space beside his Chief, refusing to give an answer to his sardonic remarks. Slowly and sarcastically the chief continues, "Congratulations, Salvatore. You have indeed cracked this case."

* * *

**_PRESENT TIME_**

**_JUNE 9, AFTERNOON_**

**_PARIS - VENICE_**

"I'm sorry," Frank apologised to her. Caroline was looking outside the window, watching the flashy scenery pass by when he suddenly voiced his apology. She turned to him and eyed him warily.

"What for?" She asked lightly with a hint of wariness in her voice, her blue eyes shifts over his shoulder to the back door at the end of the room. Waiting for the metal plates to open and a flood of officers cornering her in the passenger car, with nowhere else to run. He kept quiet and didn't answer her, making she shift her eyes back to him. However, she was taken aback by the amount of sorrow she could read in those eyes of his. They lock eyes, and for the first time since she picked him as her scapegoat, she realized that the man has a set of very appealing eyes.

His eyes grew tender and stared unflinchingly into hers. He watches her affectionately with a soft smile across his face, just a gentle curve of the mouth so faint it's like he doesn't even realized he's doing it. She doesn't think he even realize that he's been staring. Everything seemed fuzzy and she assumed she was hallucinating because, for a moment, right then and there, she could have sworn that she recognized that look. The loveliest swirls of blue that always seem to burn and freeze her altogether at the same time. Tendrils of various shades of striking blue-grey staying lined up next to one another, it's as if a blizzard is eternally raging on with a black void in the center that are his pupils. They don't capture light, but defy it.

She blinked a few time and turns her head away. His eyes were the same shade of blue, much too same that she thought she was staring into the eyes of another man. The same flecks of gray in those tantalizing blue of his, always gazing down into hers with a look of wonderment.

'That's impossible,' she thought, taking calm breaths before opening her eyes. She refused to think that way, if what she thought was true, surely he would've already told her by now. By the time she face him again, the man, Kol, wasn't watching her anymore. His head is facing the window, staring outside at nothing in particular while he takes a long drag of his cigaratte - which seemed to appear out of nowhere - with a distant look in his eyes. Noticing her stare, he flicks his gaze to her.

"Oh, do you mind? Me, smoking, that is?" He asks, waving the hand holding the butt of the cigarette as if she couldn't see it clearly enough. "But you see, it's not real." He added, and sounds oddly smug while saying so. Caroline tilts her head slightly to the side as if to ask him the unasked question. He seemed to caught on the meaning of her action easily, like he had been waiting for her to do it all along, and sits himself up in his seat to show her. "It's electronic. It delivers the same amount of nicotine but the smoke is water vapor. Yeah, watch." he slowly takes a few drags of the electronic cigarette and stabs the end that is still glowing on his hand. "LED light." he beams proudly.

"That's somewhat disappointing." Caroline frowns as she gave her reply. Her answer seem to wipe off the smile completely from of his face.

"Would you rather have me smoking for real?" He asked somewhat seriously, and she smile amused at the tone of his voice.

"I would rather you be a man who did exactly as he pleased." she responds amiably.

* * *

**_PARIS_**

"We're putting a lot of resources into this investigation. Tell me you're going to get him this time." Footsteps echo in the grand marble hallways. Alaric Saltzman, the Interpol chief inspector, moves down the hall with purpose. His intimidating stare, strong look, and height makes him give off an air of strength and power. He's the kind of man with looks who commands respect, but buried deep beneath those hard features, is actually an easy-going man for grins. Although, however kind of a laid back person he is, Alaric tend to take his work very seriously. He strode heavily further down the hallways, his eyes held on the ground's straight path, mind never strays from their destination. His counterpart, Richard Lockwood, matches him step for step with another two person in tow.

"We're going to get him this time, Alaric." Enzo replies dryly. Stefan just ended a call and closes off his cell phone.

"She's on the train. They'll be in Venice in the morning." The dark-haired man informs his associate. His partner give a slight nod, acknowledging the new piece of information while Alaric turns down a corner before disappearing into a room.

_xx_

Behind the ornate, 17th century doors is a high-tech amphitheater style briefing room. All glass and steel. Suited bureaucrats and officers from all over Europe is gathered around a wide contour table shaped like a crescent moon, listening intently to Chief Inspector Saltzman as he leads the meeting from the podium in the center of the room.

"Our target's name is _Niklaus Mikaelson_. British citizen, born in London into an ordinary middle class family. The remarkable things about his childhood was his preternatural gift for numbers and his extraordinary art talent." He clicks a slide projected on a large screen behind him, showing a fuzzy photo of a British schoolboy with a playful grin. "Which he used the former to hack into a computer and fix the test results his final year at school." he continued when Katherine Pierce, a bulgarian Interpol liaison suddenly looks up with a skeptical look.

"What, wonderboy couldn't pass his exams on his own?" Noticing his chance to pipe in, Enzo butts, although he's sitting at the farthest seat from the bulgarian at the table.

"He didn't fix _his_ test scores Ms. Pierce, he fixed the scores for all the girls in the class. It also made him very popular." and he wiggles his eyebrows up and down, grinning like a cheshire cat. A ripple of laughter breaks through the group.

"Moving on," Alaric say severely while throwing a glare in Enzo's way, who only held up both of his palms and shrug lightly, feigning innocence "However, what started as school pranks eventually became something much more serious. After a year in the training program at Goldman Sachs, he decided that gambling suited him better than working for a living." he clicks open a few more slides, showing pictures of primal _Niklaus Mikaelson_ through his budding, "That, in turn, involved him with some rather unsavory people and ultimately led him to put his financial genius to work in his true calling: money laundering."

"You've assembled quite a task force to catch a common money launderer, Mr. Saltzman." A man speaks with the crisp accent of a man who is fluent in several languages. Marcel is the French Interpol liaison officer. Tall and a bulgy man. Well-built in a country sort of way - those were solid muscles beneath his shirt. His skin is the colour of beautiful bronze, and he seem to always wore a constant smile on his beautiful face.

"There is nothing common about _Niklaus Mikaelson_. Quiet simply, he has turned money laundering into an art form. His greatest innovation: The False Lawsuit." Alaric explains as he click through a series of flashy powerpoint slides illustrating Klaus' financial dealings. "_Mikaelson_ sets up two companies: one is a Casino in Arizona for example and the other is a shell company in the Cayman Islands." Marcel and a few others lean slightly forward in their seat.

"The Cayman Islands company files a lawsuit against the casino, claiming copyright infringement or some other complaint. They 'succeed' in winning the case and the casino pays the shell company an enormous settlement." Alaric finishes.

"The money travels from America to the Cayman Islands..." Marcel points out, and his forehead contracted into a frown. Alaric nod somberly.

"Yes, but now the money is legal."

"Not quite legal. The I.R.S. has been cheated out of the revenue." Stefan interrupts, "We've calculated that _Mikaelson_'s tax bill currently stands at $743.7 million dollars." Katherine Pierce leans toward the person who's sitting next to her, Enzo.

"This explains what the American harridan is doing here." the Bulgarian murmurs lightly under her breath. Alaric gives her a glacial stare.

"Exactly, Ms. Pierce." Katherine tensed. 'Oops. Apparently not every American fits the stereotype.' she smiles prettily and flicks away her hair from covering her eyes and blocking her view.

"Mr._ Mikaelson_ has some other debts as well. Most of you might recognize..." a photo of a fairly young looking Italian oligarch emerging from a limo is shown on the slide. "Silas,"

"He laundered over a billion dollars for Silas. At some point he decided he'd rather steal from Silas than help him steal." Alaric clicks open a slide revealing a much clearer image of the young mafia leader. "Given Silas' ties to organized crime, I'd say that was a mistake." Stefan clears his throat, giving a clear indication that he is about to announce something, or rather, the real objective in this operation.

"The U.S. Government is not participating in an investigation of a member of the Italian parliament; our target is _Niklaus Mikaelson_." The younger Salvatore stares coolly at everyone around the table, his eyes land on Enzo last, and for the first time for both of them, they actually agreed on a decision together without one of them ending up almost killing the other.

"Of course." Enzo responds calmly. An Interpol officer from Germany raises his hand as to ask a question.

"Has Mr. _Mikaelson_ ever been in custody?" Alaric immediately direct his gaze towards Enzo, then Stefan. Stefan looks down for a moment, as if it pains him to answer.

"Almost." Enzo answered in his partner's stead and glare at the - well, to him the officer looks like nothing more than just a - boy without a shun, as if daring him to ask the question about the incident from two years ago. Luckily the boy backs down. Marcel, sensing the heavy cloud in the room opted out to lighten the situation by asking the easy question.

"What does this _Niklaus Mikaelson_ look like now?" Alaric closes the file in front of him on the podium and walks around the curved table to lean on it as he gave his answer.

"Nobody knows. He disappeared after his escape. He's had extensive plastic surgery to alter his appearance since then. Drug lord Amado Carillo did the same thing in the 90s to successfully elude authorities."

"Well, how do you know about it then?" Katherine ask quizzically while Marcel is lightly tapping his chin with his middle and forefinger, both of their faces clearly awaiting.

"He worked with no more than a few accomplices at one time. He treated them so well that they're virtually all completely loyal. None of them would cooperate. We've questioned the ones we could find, and the only thing we learned is that _Mikaelson_ apparently arranged it so even his own people have never seen him after the surgery."

"So nobody knows what he looks like?" The bulgarian asks dubiously. But it was the man sitting next to her who responds. "Correct."

"Forgive me for saying so Mr. Salvatore, but he slipped away under your watch when you knew his whereabouts and his appearance... What makes you think you can catch him now?" Stefan regards her with aplomb. He swivels his chair around to face her and calmly speak.

"His _lover_ was released from custody. He'll come for her. We'll be waiting." Enzo feeling rather annoyed for being left out, gets up from his chair and stride along the board to the center of the room.

"What makes you so certain?" her question died on her lips when Enzo clicks on a slide and Caroline's face fills the screen behind him. Almost immediately murmurs run through the room while every man stares.

"_Oh_ trust me, he'll come for her." is Enzo's reply. Stefan, himself, glances up at her face with a look one can only make up as longing.

* * *

**Sorry for the lack of Klaroline. Don't worry, there will be a lot more flashbacks as the story unfolds and you will see a lot of Klaus and Caroline moments. I've decide that the opening of every chapters will be a random flashback of Klaroline moment when they were still together, but the chain of memories doesn't necessarily follow any kind of time frame, like for this chapter it was the part when Caroline last saw him, who knows, maybe next chapter it could be when they first met? Eh I don't know. **

**I****n case any of you have already noticed, Nicholas i.e. Kol is not the same Kol Mikaelson that we love. I just felt like using his name. Don't worry, Enzo nor Stefan is not in love with Caroline, and vice versa. They're only as close friends in this story. I hope you like that I decided to throw in a few familiar characters in there. I'm sorry if there were any grammatical or vocabulary mistakes **

***lowers head* **

**I got slightly lazy at the end of this chapter. Well there's that, I hope you like it and please, please be excited for the next chapter. Thank you lovelies,**

**Heads up for Chapter 2 :**

**Kol and Caroline will be having dinner, Kol opens up to Caroline.**

**Caroline and Kol are staying together at the same hotel?**

**Kol starts asking questions about the man of her past.**

**Silas will make his first appearance.**

**Caroline's gone and there are two strangers inside the suite, strangers with guns.**

**Caroline will have a reunion with Stefan and Enzo.**

**Caroline becomes more suspicious of Kol.**

**Klaus delivers another letter, a basket of flowers, and a package to Caroline.**

**Caroline will have to decide.**


End file.
